


vessels in great disrepair

by mittagsfrau



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: HYDRA Husbands, Humiliation, M/M, Rape, bucky is just a prop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau
Summary: It’s a surreal display. Two people watching a lesson in obedience. Order through pain. It’s punishment. Punishment for Rumlow for coddling the Asset, punishment for the Asset for becoming attached to its handler and punishment for Jack for believing Brock was his and his alone.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	vessels in great disrepair

Commander Rumlow looks small under the Asset’s bulk, engulfed by the shadow it casts over him. A single dim light bulb dangling from the ceiling illuminates his face. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, deep in their sockets, his lips are pulled back in a snarl, exposing clenched white teeth. There are lines of pain etched into his handsome face, covered in a fine layer of sweat. The only sounds in this cold concrete room are harsh pants muffled by the Asset’s mask, the slap of skin on skin and the screech of the table legs on the dirty floor. Rumlow is clinging to the edge of the rickety table with a white knuckled grip but he is pushed forward ever so slightly with every hard thrust. The soles of his boots slip on the floor. He is fully dressed in his tactical outfit, vest, T-Shirt, harness. His pants and underwear are bunched around his knees. The SHIELD logo on his sleeve quivers, distorts, his tense arms are shaking too hard.

There’s a gleaming metal hand wrapped around the back of his neck. A flesh and blood one is curled around his hip, leaving grape sized bruises. The curve of his spine speaks of agony. From his vantage point Jack can see its source clearly. The Asset’s thick cock disappearing behind the curve of his buttock again and again. The room smells like damp concrete, cold and earthy, like male sweat with a hint of iron blood.

It’s a surreal display. Two people watching a lesson in obedience. Order through pain. It’s punishment. Punishment for Rumlow for coddling the Asset, punishment for the Asset for becoming attached to its handler and punishment for Jack for believing Brock was his and his alone.

Pierce watches with the benevolent smile of a doting father on his features. Jack tries to keep his expression neutral, stoic as always but his hands are trembling and his nostrils flare. He’s practically shaking with rage and pain.

There is sweat pooling in the two dimples on the small of Brock’s back that Jack would like to kiss. Brock’s legs tremble, sinews rising under his skin. There’s a slow and steady trickle of blood down the inside of his bruised thigh, where his olive skin is pale and silky soft. The sight of it almost brings Jack to his knees. He takes a shivering breath and straightens his back, rising to his full, imposing height. He tends to slouch, when his mind wanders and right now all his thoughts scatter apart like a flock of startled birds as a low sound of pain is forced out of Brock.

Pierce nods toward the Asset who never lost eye contact with him and it picks up both in pace and force. Brock finally screams in agony, a shrill animal sound and it’s finally over.

The Asset steps back and tucks itself back into its pants. It’s not even out of breath.

Brock’s legs finally give out and buckle, he slides to the ground in a graceless heap with his pants still halfway down his legs.

“Get up!” Pierce’s order rings sharply in Jack ears and even Brock flinches. “We are not done here. Back in position.”

Jack has to watch as Brock struggles to get to his feet, he’s shaking like an overridden mare but he manages to pull himself up and bend over the table again. Jack startles violently as Pierce’s cool hand grips his neck. He was too distracted by Brock to see or hear him move. He lets himself being steered behind brock and pushed on his knees.

Jack stares wide eyed at the floor, taking in all the cracks and blemishes and pieces of grit and dirt as the hand leaves his neck to tangle into his slicked back hair. His head is tilted up and he has no choice but to look at the damage the Asset caused. There’s a gentle shadow covering the space between his commander’s buttocks but Pierce shoves his face forward until his nose hits Brocks tailbone.

“Rollins. Always kissing up your Commander’s ass. You think I didn’t notice? How about a demonstration?”

Jack closes his eyes and half a dozen ways to kill Pierce here and now are flashing through his mind until the Asset’s heavy thread next to him makes all his plans crumble to dust. With shaking hands he parts those tense buttocks and leans in to press his lips to the place that is swollen and leaking a pinkish mixture of seed and blood. Brock startles violently under the gentle touch but quickly composes himself again as Jack draws back again.

They both flinch as Pierce slaps one of Brock’s buttocks hard.

“You like that, you little faggot whore? Should have been born with a nice slick cunt between your legs.” Pierce mocks Brock, his hand lingering to knead at the reddening flesh.

Brock stays silent but Jack can see the muscles jump under the skin in the back of his legs.

Pierce turns back to the kneeling SIC of STRIKE Alpha. “Clean him up. Use your tongue.”

Jack does what he’s told. The ring of muscle clenches at the first touch of the very tip of Jack’s tongue. The smell of cum, blood and male musk fills Jack’s senses. The taste of that mixture is cloying enough to make his mouth water. He closes his eyes and starts licking in earnest. He vaguely hears Brock whimpering, the rush of his own blood in his ears is too loud. Soft little circles and firm lapping get the muscle nice and relaxed enough for Jack to lick inside. A flood of cum rushes into his mouth, drips down his chin and Brock squirms.

Pierce pulls Jack away abruptly enough to make his head spin.

“Turn around and show him”, he barks at Brock. He complies, feet shuffling awkwardly. He’s hard and leaking and as Jack looks up he can see a flush spreading from his cheeks under the collar of his shirt.

“You are a disgrace. All exited from getting your fucked out cunt licked”, Pierce hisses and Brock hangs his head. His are tears dripping on Jack’s face, hot enough to burn on his skin.

There’s an awkward silence between them that doesn’t fade. Brock doesn’t meet his eyes for weeks. Pierce managed to stomp out the fragile thing between them, that was just lingering touches and soft, secret smiles efficiently before it became more.


End file.
